


Smoke

by Hino



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper hates cigarette smoke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

Sniper hates cigarette smoke.

 

He hates how it clings to the air, how it drifts and lingers long after the nicotine has burnt and the remnants have been smeared into the concrete. It makes his eyes water and his chest tight, wanting to cough.

 

He hates how the smell makes him stiffen, how it makes him turn, kukri in hand. How his eyes search for the soft crackle of blue lightning. It disgusts him how it’s always the lit end of a cigarette that appears, followed by the rest of the damn Spy, decloak reeking of chemicals.

 

He hates how the Spy’s charms work, how it draws him in. How Spy’s words linger like smoke and how he finds himself with an addiction. It feels sick to crave it, to hide in the same places in hopes that he’ll hear that Frenchman speak again.

 

He hates how falling in love feels, how it makes his entire being shake. His body cries out and he silences it with the other’s own pressed tight, clothes discarded. It scares him how at ease he feels when Spy lights a cigarette and smokes it while he removes his belt and slowly eases his pants down.

 

He hates how it clings to his camper’s walls and curtains, how the smell stays for days after he’s gone. Boxes of incense do nothing and the hot Teufort air only pushes the smell around the tiny space.

 

He hates how the news comes, how after the years they’ve spent playing, it ends. How the only mention comes with Scout making a comment that the “Damned BLU frog” has completely vanished from the other team. It chills him to the core when the Administrator confirms it.

 

He hates going to his sniper’s hut, how the air still smells like the cigarettes Spy would smoke. How the smell is stale but still as strong and if he’s not careful, he thinks he can feel the hair on his neck prickle as a gloved hand traces over it.

 

He hates spending nights in the van, how it still reeks. He washed the sheets, scrubbed the walls and it still smells like long-forgotten nights of smoke and love. He wakes up with tears in his eyes, smoke in his nose and agony in his chest.

 

He hates how their own Spy watches him, how he lingers and smokes like the other Spy, _His Spy._ His cigarettes are a different brand and they made his nose turn up, wanting the softer scent of his lover. It just brings back a flood of memories and a vague bleary vision of someone whispering “Goodbye” in his ear.

 

Sniper hates cigarette smoke.


End file.
